“Have you considered what people will say? Have you forgotten that everybody knows her most unpleasant story?”
“I cannot help it. People must say what they please. I will not have Geordie go to such a school, even if I have to receive half the fallen women in London to prevent it. If Lochmaben never marries, Geordie will be head of our house.”
Lady Grizell spoke with passionate excitement. Mr. Fane felt that he hardly knew his wife, always so gentle and dignified, in this woman with the pale face and blazing eyes. He expostulated forcibly and at his usual length. If he was somewhat less conscious of the dignity of the House of Cochran than was Lady Grizell, he was keenly alive to the dignity of the House of Fane. But all his exhortation, all his arguments were of no avail. He could not shake Lady Grizell’s determination; and the afternoon saw her speeding in the express toward the interview with her brother.
The journey was not long, but the August day was hot. Lady Grizell felt faint and shaken when the omnibus (she had been too excited to wire for a cab) deposited her at her brother’s door.
The parlormaid looked curiously at the tall lady who asked so pointedly for Mr. Cochran, and showed her into the study. No ladies ever called, and here was an undoubted lady—“my lady” to boot—as the sharp girl discovered on reading the card.
She carried the card to her master in the garden, where he was sitting with his wife. He flushed as he read it, and tossed it to the woman beside him, exclaiming: “Grizie, by Jove!—can she be coming round?”
The woman caught the card, reading the name aloud in an eager, excited voice, then said, a little bitterly: “She only asks for you.”
“She wouldn’t come here to insult you. I know Grizie. It’s something about the boy, and she wants to be friends. You wait here till I send for you.”
He strode across the lawn, and entered the study by the open French window.
“Now this is really good of you, Grizie; Geordie will be in raptures—it’s kind and friendly!”